


Pon Farr vs. Bones

by midgardian_leviosa



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Bottom Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Dammit Jim, Dubious Consent, Fuck Or Die, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Milking, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Pon Farr, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Spock, Voyeurism, Vulcan, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midgardian_leviosa/pseuds/midgardian_leviosa
Summary: Pon Farr: when Vulcans go into heat. If you want a really angsty, plot-heavy beautiful story that will make you cry, there are some great ones out there, but THIS AIN'T IT. If you want an alien handjob jizz-covered fuckfest, yeah, this is the one for you.Spock lay on his back on the examination table, huge cock stuffed inside a tube, writhing, sweating, and wholly having a very bad day.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 48
Kudos: 374





	1. And so it begins

Spock lay on his back on the examination table, huge cock stuffed inside a tube, writhing, sweating, and wholly having a very bad day.

"Hell, Pointy-ears, I don't know how you manage. I'd be spraying like Niagara Falls if that were me in there."

"That is—because—unh!—you humans lack—ahh!—control—"

McCoy bent over him to look into his eyes. "Can you stop wriggling for a minute? I need to check your pupils."

"I am—trying, doctor."

McCoy put a gentle, but firm, hand on Spock's chin and held him fast. Spock could feel the heartbeat in the doctor's fingers.

McCoy's face got closer, gazing into his eyes with more concern than was professional. Spock could smell the doctor's breath. Could taste it.

Spock thrashed and groaned, deep.

X x 

It had all started a few days earlier.

Spock had felt lethargic all day despite his adequate sleep, nutritionally balanced meals, and standard exercise regimen. 

Nobody had noticed, of course. He always kept his feelings in check.

The next day, he felt worse. The lethargy had intensified, and he slept through his alarm clock for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. He felt achy all over, especially in his abdomen, despite having performed proper stretches after his workout. As the day wore on, he experienced alternating hot and cold flashes.

But the worst part was the intrusive thoughts.

It started after lunch. He was on the bridge as usual. The ship was drifting through an asteroid belt, and the captain was advising the new navigator on how to avoid a collision. 

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary; don’t worry.” Kirk smiled and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Just take it slow. See that gap? That’s where need to go. Guide her in, nice and easy, now.”

Spock’s eyebrows shot up. Kirk’s words, as if through telepathy, had placed an image in his head, and that image refused to leave. He saw, as if in a photograph, Kirk licking his lips and staring up at him with those come-hither eyes, one hand holding his uniform shirt up, and the other hand stroking his...his engorged penis.

“Come-hither eyes”? Spock rolled his eyes at himself and busied himself at his workstation. He had never thought of the captain’s eyes as “come-hither” before. And he had _certainly_ never thought of the captain doing— _that_ before.

But now that he had begun to think about it, he could not stop. He turned to ask Lieutenant Uhura a question, and his voice caught in his throat when he glimpsed the curve of her breasts. Sulu walked past him as he focused on his computer screen, and Spock found himself breathing in his scent deeply. And when the captain called his name and looked at him with those laughing, trusting, mischievous eyes, the hot and cold flashes flared up.

“Mister Spock? Are you all right?” The captain’s tone was serious now, businesslike, but concerned, and it made Spock even dizzier than before.

  
“Yes—Captain,” Spock gritted out, trying not to collapse. “I am fine.”

“Are you sure, Mister Spock? You seem a little...off.” 

Oh, no, now he was walking over to check on him. How humiliating! Kirk put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling OK? Lunch not agreeing with you?”

Spock shuddered. Warmth was radiating from the captain’s hand, flowing all through Spock’s body. Was he holding a hand-warmer? No, Spock would have noticed. Strange. 

Oh, now the captain was watching his face, waiting for an answer. Spock steeled himself and spoke evenly. “I assure you, captain, I am fine. It is not as if a full-grown Vulcan can not handle a few strange images and feelings.”

“Images? Feelings? What do you mean?”

“I merely meant that, as an adult, I can take care of myself, captain. I am fully capable of monitoring my health.”

“And _I_ take care of this ship and all the people on it. That includes you, mister.” Kirk felt Spock’s forehead, and they both gasped at the touch, albeit for different reasons. “My god, Spock, you’re burning up! Go to Sickbay this instant.”

“I assure you, captain, I am fine.”

When the captain took his hand away, it felt like...well, it felt unlike anything Spock had experienced. It felt like all the happiness, all the wellbeing had been sucked out of his body. It just felt _wrong_.

“Doctor McCoy will determine that. Sickbay. That’s an order.”

X x

“Hold it right there, pointy-ears, you just walked in! Where do you think you’re going?” McCoy glared, hands on his hips.

“My orders were to report to Sickbay, Doctor. I have done so. And now I'll go to my quarters.”

“Like hell you will. My orders were to give you a thorough physical.”

“No!” Spock slammed his fist through the wall, nerve-wrackingly close to McCoy’s head. McCoy stared.

Spock shook the bits of wall off of his hand, ignoring the blood, and stormed out.

X x

Spock wandered through the halls as if in a dream. He was so lost in his own head—lost in the plak tow, the blood fever, he now realized—that he walked straight into the captain.

“My apologies, captain,” he said, at the same time as Kirk said, “Ah, Mister Spock, just who I was hoping to see!”

Kirk glanced from Spock’s pained face to his bloodied knuckles, and his smile evaporated. “What happened? Report.”

Spock stood at attention. “There was a...misunderstanding in Sickbay.”

“A misunderstanding?” Kirk looked up at him and his eyes burned straight through him, as if he could see into Spock’s overheated mind. Spock felt a stab of pleasure and his eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment. Perhaps it would look like a blink to the captain.

“Yes, captain.”

Kirk glared. “And what kind of a misunderstanding would leave my first officer bleeding like a punched a wall?”

Spock paused. “I can’t say.”

“Did Doctor McCoy examine you?”

“No, captain. My orders were to report to Sickbay. I did so. And then I left, having fulfilled my—”

“Don’t you talk back to me,” Kirk interrupted, pressing into his personal space. Spock backed against the wall, but Kirk followed, and Spock could feel the heat emanating off of the captain’s broad chest. He stared down as the captain pressed an angry finger against Spock’s chest, gesticulating every word, but he could hear none of it over the sound of his blood coursing through his head. 

Kirk was angry, Kirk was still speaking, and he was so close, nearly pressed against him, and Spock felt his control slipping. He tried to leave, but Kirk moved fast, moving his arms to the wall so that Spock was penned in on both sides, so he wouldn’t miss a minute of the lecture. Spock tried to meditate. He tried to breathe deeply. He tried everything, but he could focus on nothing but the closeness, the sound of the captain’s deep, passionate voice, those eyes that drilled into him, just begging Spock to reach out and—

Spock’s arms shot out of their own accord and wrapped around the captain, pressing him fully against Spock. Zaps of pleasure consumed him and he groaned.

Kirk was shocked. This was not how his lectures usually ended, crushed against the chest of his first officer. “Spock! Are you all right?” He was clearly not all right; the man was clearly in agonizing pain—his pained groan had mad that clear. But he did not know what else to say. Spock did not respond; every iota of self-discipline was focused on not doing anything more to the captain than he already was.

“Can you walk? We’re not far from Sickbay. I’ll take you.” Kirk squirmed out from under Spock’s grip, letting the Vulcan rest his weight on Kirk’s shoulders, so Kirk could help him walk.

Spock’s mind exploded with images of the captain _taking_ him in a rather different context, and he moaned.

X x

“It is a deeply personal thing. No Vulcan would tell you more.”

McCoy rubbed his chin. “So you’re sick, and you know what it is, but you won’t tell me?”

“That is correct, doctor.”

McCoy was becoming angry. Whenever he became angry, all his energy, all his focus was on Spock, as if he was the only person on the ship. It was, in this moment, intoxicating.

“Well, if that isn’t the stupidest thing I ever heard. Mister Spock, you’re a logical man, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“And is it in any way _logical_ to refuse to tell your doctor what is wrong, and instead to insist you’re fine, when you are obviously not?”

“Perhaps not…” Spock trailed off, distracted by the heat in McCoy’s eyes, the closeness.

  
“Spock? Are you all right? You’re—oh no, don’t collapse on me, stay with me, Spock.” All anger had evaporated, leaving only worry.

Spock stood with his head on the doctor’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. “I am not collapsing, doctor.”

“Let’s get you lying down. Can’t fall, that way. Come on, just over here.”

The doctor half-carried Spock’s body to the table, Spock’s limp torso against his. Spock’s head swam. The images this time were even more vivid. The doctor lying down atop him, nude, pressing their bodies together. The doctor kissing him and sinking down onto his cock. The doctor nuzzling his neck and peppering it with kisses.

Then, all of a sudden, the doctor was gone. Spock hadn’t realized his eyes had fluttered shut until they shot open. It felt _wrong_ , it felt...he needed... _some_ thing. But the doctor was back now, running the tricorder over him, taking his temperature, feeling for his heartbeat.

“Jesus, Spock, you’re in a bad way.”

“Worse than you know, doctor.”

“You gonna tell me what it is?”

Spock took a deep breath. “Very well.”

X x

“You mean to tell me Vulcans go into heat?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“And you need to mate with the person you’re bonded to or you’ll die?”

“That is what I said, doctor. It is painful to discuss. Please do not make me continue to repeat myself.”

McCoy shook his head. “And your bondmate is a million lightyears away. Shit, Spock. Shit. Isn’t there anything we can do? We’ve got all of modern science at our disposal. Can’t you use that godforsaken logical brain of yours and figure something out?”

“I am finding it hard—” he grimaced at the double-entendre, “—difficult to think clearly. The fever.”

McCoy chuckled nervously. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but I am finding it _hard_ , too.” He glanced meaningfully at the tent in Spock’s pants. “Maybe I can rig something up. Simulate mating. I don’t know about Vulcan bonds, but at least I can try to help with the other part.” He began collecting odds and ends from throughout the room. “There are machines for this. ‘Sperm extraction machines.’ Or, as some people say, ‘milking machines.’ Never thought I’d need one on board. But don’t you worry your pretty green head, Mister Spock. I’ll sort something out for you. Now, what kind of stimulation do Vulcans prefer?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to answer that, doctor.”

“Well, it was a long shot. Just thought I’d ask.”

X x

Which brings us to the present time.

Writhing on the examination table, machine sucking away at his engorged cock, Spock could think of nothing but the doctor’s breath, and how close it was, how intoxicating it smelled.

McCoy's fingers tightened on Spock’s chin. "Stop moving. I know it's hard, I know. Pupils are dilating. More and more each second—boy, let's hope that's a good thing."

Spock's eyes rolled back and he thrust into the tube.

Then the fingers left his face as McCoy straightened up to examine the readings. Spock whined for a split second before he caught himself, but it wasn't fast enough.

"Hm?" McCoy looked him in the eye. "What's wrong?" Spock said nothing, but he held the gaze, even as his skin crawled with sensation. "If I didn't know better, I'd think...Hell, this ain't my first rodeo. I _do_ know that look. Spock, do you...need something so you can orgasm? From me?"

He couldn't bring himself to say it. To admit to such a need, and to the doctor, of all people...No, not even to himself. He could only lock eyes with the doctor, and when McCoy's tongue darted out to wet his lips, Spock's pupils dilated again and he cried out as his body responded.

In a moment, the doctor was there, leaning over him. "Spock, is this...I want to help you. Help you...get relief. Does it help you when I'm here like this? With my face close to yours?"

Spock nodded, miserable, back arching off the table.

"What about this? With my lips just above yours? Does that help?"

Spock was frozen, every cell vibrating with anticipation.

  
And then the doctor's lips were on his, delicate, soft, _everything_ , and he growled into the doctor's mouth and came and came.


	2. Plak Tow: The Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock enters plak tow, the blood fever. He loses control.
> 
> You know how I said this was gonna be an angst-free fic? I was wrong. There's angst. But the description of a handjob-focused jizz-covered fuckfest still stands.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: There are very slight dubiously consensual elements, because although everyone is enthusiastic, Spock is stronger and out of control. There is a brief scene of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic got away from me. I have updated the tags, but in case you missed it, Chapter 2 has a dubcon/rape warning; I would classify it as slightly dubious consent, but I can imagine one scene potentially being triggering, so I figure better safe than sorry. Take care of yourself <3

McCoy had kissed him through two orgasms, and it was getting difficult again. The sensations were maddening.

"Doctor," Spock gasped, wrenching his lips away. 

"Yes?" he responded, voice low.

Spock turned his head away, blushing green.

"What is it?"

Spock tried to take a deep, calming breath, but it ended up as a groan. "Perhaps it might be more effective. To allow...flesh to interact with flesh. It is logical that- _ahh_!- the body would have evolved to respond optimally to —" he shuddered, "—the presence of another living being."

McCoy smirked. "You want me to take the tube off?"

Spock nodded, all business. "Affirmative, doctor."

"And you want me to use my dexterous surgeon's hands to milk that big ol' cucumber of yours?"

"That is a crude way of putting it, but, yes, your hands are one option." Spock shrugged, playing it cool as well as anyone can whose pupils are suddenly dilating at the idea, and whose cock is straining in a milking machine.

The doctor grinned. "Well, Mr. Spock, I thought you'd never ask."

McCoy shut the machine off and went to pull it off. “Now, just relax. Damn, you’re really jammed in there. Must’ve gotten even more swollen since I put it on.” The doctor fidgeted with the apparatus and muttered to himself, “Even bigger. Hell, think of the damage _that_ thing could do.”

Finally, Spock’s green cock popped free, bobbing angrily. 

McCoy’s eyebrows twitched. “That is quite a piece of meat you got there.”

Spock gritted his teeth. “Doctor, I request that you continue your ministrations with haste. My control...it has been said that...during Pon Farr, many lose control.”

“Of course. Right away,” he drawled, licking his lips. “I have to take care of my patient.”

A shadow passed over Spock’s face. “Yes. Your patient. Of course. A doctor has his responsibilities to his patients. Nothing more.”

McCoy hummed in distracted agreement. He may have noticed the darkness in Spock’s eyes or the stiffness in his shoulders had he not been distracted by the twitching, throbbing, deep green stiffness between his legs, but as it was, McCoy was not in any state to notice subtlety.

“It’s a work of art,” he breathed. He ran a finger along the underside and it twitched toward him as Spock gasped. McCoy continued to tease with a finger and stare, awe-struck, muttering to himself, “A jade statue. Put you in a museum. Jesus.”

Spock arched his back and began breathing hard again. “Is my finger good?” asked the doctor. “You tell me what feels good, all right? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Spock groaned. “You cannot hurt me. I...I could…” He groaned and clenched his fists. “I could hurt you,” he whispered.

“Don’t you worry about me. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He moved to two fingers, tentatively adding pressure, and Spock shuddered.

“You don’t— _ah!_ —understand, doctor. I am bigger than you. I am stronger than you. I could—My control. It could...slip.” He bit his lip and wrenched his head to the side; he could not bear to look the doctor in the eye. “There is nothing more shameful to a Vulcan.”

“Mm,” McCoy hummed to himself, absorbed with the way it twitched at his touch. “Just let me take care of you,” he breathed. He spit on both his hands and wrapped them around Spock’s cock. Spock moaned and bucked his hips inadvertently. 

“Is that good? Not too tight?”

Spock growled. “Tighter. Faster.”

McCoy smirked. “As you like.”

His hands sped up and Spock writhed. His breathing came in gasps and he seemed to be losing the ability to speak. McCoy watched with wide eyes for a long minute of building tension, until Spock stiffened and coated the doctor’s hands with cum.

McCoy began to loosen his grip to move his hands away, but before he could even move, impossibly fast, impossibly strong hands shot out and clamped down on his arms. “Keep going,” Spock said, voice deeper than McCoy had ever heard it. Threatening, almost. Not at all like Spock. 

“Yes, sir,” McCoy said, but the suspicious, quirked eyebrows were lost on the Vulcan. Nonetheless, he obeyed. Spock groaned.

“Filthy, using your own cum as lube. Fuck, Spock. So fucking dirty. Never would have thought you’d be into that,” McCoy rambled. “Probably shouldn’t be saying this, you’ll have my head for this if you remember.” 

Spock groaned and bucked into his fists. “Perhaps. You should hope— _ah!—_ your head is all I have.” Spock began to shake. “I would—” he whimpered, “have all of you.”

If McCoy heard, the only hint was a slight widening of his eyes.

X x

When Captain Kirk opened the door to Sickbay, he had expected to see Spock, he had expected to see Bones, but boy, he had _not_ expected to see _that_. Spock’s pants were off and Bones was leaning over him. Inspecting—no, no, he wasn’t inspecting anything. If Kirk didn’t know better, he would say Bones was kissing the Vulcan and jerking him off. But that would be...Kirk rubbed his eyes. Well, that would be exactly what was happening in front of him.

Kirk coughed.

McCoy jumped. In half a second, he was standing at attention and looking guilty as sin.

“Report, Doctor McCoy.” Kirk smirked, glancing pointedly at the tent in McCoy’s pants. Standing at attention, indeed.

“I, uhm, the patient is in a bad way. I was assisting in his medical needs.”

“Give it to me straight, Bones. What is going on here? Spock was desperately ill just a couple hours ago, and now I find you—” he tried to find the word to describe the indescribable. “You— _sexually engaged_ with him. Now, I know you, Bones, I know you would never take advantage of a patient, but—”

“Take advantage!” McCoy shouted. “Does it _look_ like I’m _taking advantage_ , Jim? Does it?! If I were _taking advantage_ , you think I wouldn’t be balls-deep in his pretty green asshole right now?”

There was silence, and everyone stared at the doctor. Even Spock was conscious enough to quirk an eyebrow.

“I, uh. Shit.”

Kirk walked to the examination table. “Spock. Care to explain what on earth is going on?”

Spock took a deep breath. “We are not on earth, captain. Nonetheless, I will explain what is going on. It has to do with biology. Reproduction.”

“Yes, Mister Spock. I gathered that much.” He put a hand on Spock’s shoulder, comforting, friendly, and Spock’s cock throbbed visibly. Kirk was secretly quite pleased.

“This must never be spoken of. To anyone. It is— _ah!—_ deeply shameful for a Vulcan. And to be seen by my captain like this...” He gulped. “The time has come. I must mate with my bondmate, or die.” He took a deep breath. “My bondmate is on Vulcan. I am here. So I shall die.”

Now the doctor had placed a possessive hand on Spock’s other shoulder. Spock shuddered in pleasure despite his shame. He struggled to capture his train of thought, but it was rapidly pulling away from the brain station. “It...that is to say...I must…” 

Kirk squeezed his shoulder and pleasure stabbed through him, pooling in his groin. He gasped. “I...must…” 

The doctor was now gently massaging his shoulder, working out the knots. Spock arched off the table and his eyes rolled back. When he managed to finish the sentence, his voice was deep, impossibly deep, and predatory, and almost like someone else speaking through Spock, or at least a very, very deeply repressed part of him. “ _I must mate_.”

Spock’s hands shot out to either side and grabbed each man’s head, fingers planted firmly on their temples. His body trembled, his back arched, his eyes were pure white, his jaw lolled open. He could not see, he could not think, but something in him, something deep and ancient, was moving, inexorable. 

Kirk and McCoy stared at each other, eyes wide, but did not move. With his eyes, Kirk said something along the lines of, ‘I don’t know what’s happening, but I trust Spock with my very life, and you should, too,’ and with his eyes, McCoy said something along the lines of, ‘Of course I do, you incorrigible idiot, I’m not going anywhere,’ and they both smiled a little, despite the fear and adrenaline and--and _pain._

Both men winced. What had begun as pressure pushing against their temples was now overwhelming, sharp bright white pain. But soon, the pain faded to a pressure, and finally to a presence, and a light.

Kirk’s eyes said something like, ‘That was unexpected, but how is Spock?’ and McCoy’s eyes replied something like, ‘It sure was, and you think I needed you to remind me? Who’s the doctor: me or you?’

The Vulcan did not look well. He was still gaping, unseeing, and shaking, and he had begun emitting low, guttural groans, almost like a meditative chant. His fingers still pressed against their temples.

Spock snapped awake. His fingers traced over their faces and he growled.

After a split second of confusion, Spock was on his feet and had cornered the doctor, bearing down on him. McCoy backed away until his legs bumped into the examination table. Spock’s pupils were blown out so much his eyes were black, and McCoy saw little familiar in them. He looked feral.

“Spock, what’s happened to you?” he asked. At the same time, Kirk approached Spock from behind and said, “Spock, what’s going on?”

If Spock could hear, he gave no sign of it. He wrapped his arms around the doctor, crushing the smaller man in an embrace, and groaned. “T’hy’la,” Spock whispered. “Mine.”

McCoy barely had time to be surprised before he found himself lifted up and shoved onto his back on the examination table. Behind them, Kirk exclaimed, “Spock! Stop that!” but he may as well have been shouting at a thunderstorm for all the good it did.

McCoy could only stare down, wide-eyed, as Spock tore the doctor’s shoes and pants off and tossed them behind him. Kirk grabbed his arm. “Spock! Stop this instant. That’s an ord--” Spock moaned and whirled around. He grabbed Kirk by the waist and lifted him up, attacking his mouth in a kiss that swallowed up Kirk’s surprised shout.

The two Terrans’ brains switched to emergency settings then. This wasn’t the first time they had been in strange, even threatening situations together. They locked eyes and had a whole silent conversation in a handful of seconds.

McCoy raised both eyebrows once and held them there. It meant something like, ‘Well, isn’t this a situation?’ Kirk mirrored it, meaning, ‘It certainly is, Bones. And you appear to be on the receiving end of quite a big situation indeed.’ 

The doctor tilted his head and twitched his lips almost imperceptibly. It meant something along the lines of, ‘Not that I mind.’ Kirk smirked. McCoy glanced at the Vulcan towering above him and then back at Kirk, and it meant, ‘But I’m worried about Spock. This isn’t like him.’ Kirk, who had the benefit of being out of Spock’s line of sight, mouthed the words ‘bond, mate.’ McCoy’s jaw dropped and he stared at Kirk and then up at Spock. _Bondmate._

“Spock,” McCoy said, carefully, quietly. “What happened back there with the migraine...was that a bond? Did you make us your bondmates?”

Spock leaned over the table, nuzzling against McCoy’s neck. “Mm,” Spock purred. “Mine.”

McCoy licked his lips and hoped his voice would not betray him. “And you made...both of us your mates? Not just...one of us?” _Not just me?_ He managed not to say that part aloud.

Spock breathed in McCoy’s scent. “Mm. My Leonard. My Jim.”

If McCoy frowned, it was just because he always frowned. Probably.

Then fingers were delving between his legs, searching, searching, _finding._ McCoy yowled as a finger shoved inside him dry. “Jim! Lubricant and numbing agent. Second cabinet on the left in the— _argh!_ —back room. Go!” Kirk scurried off.

Kirk returned with the bottles, along with some extras that seemed useful, and stood next to the table, uncertain for a moment. “Do you want me to…?” he asked. McCoy rolled his eyes but it soon turned into a cringe of pain. “No, I don’t—ow!— _want_ you to, but _does it look like I can do it myself?_ Do something!” 

Kirk grabbed Spock’s hand. Spock turned to him, not removing his finger from McCoy’s aching hole. Kirk pulled with all his strength, but Spock did not even seem to notice. 

He tried another tack. “Hey, Spock. I know a thing or two about Vulcan biology,” he said, oozing charm. He licked his lips for effect. “For example, I know that Vulcan fingers are _very_ sensitive. Imagine how good it would feel to have my tongue all over your fingers, Spock. So warm and wet, slipping and sliding all over those long fingers of yours...mmm,” he groaned, eyes sparkling, fingers running along Spock’s hand. Spock shivered. Kirk leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Just take your finger out and put it in my mouth.” His tongue crept out and slid along Spock’s sensitive earlobe. Spock cried out in pleasure. He withdrew his finger and Kirk knelt and took it into his mouth. The Vulcan’s head fell back as ecstasy washed over him.

McCoy’s heart raced and he jumped into action, smearing this cream here, injecting that medication there; he was not entirely sure what he was getting himself into, but he wanted to be ready for anything. After only a couple of minutes, he was all ready, and he lay back to catch his breath. _Leonard, you sure do know how to keep a cool head in a hot situation,_ he congratulated himself. From where he rested on his elbows, he could see everything that Jim was doing to Spock’s fingers. _And boy, is this a hot situation,_ he thought, settling back to enjoy the show.

What had started as a ploy to give McCoy time to prepare himself had become something else entirely. Jim was kneeling on one knee by the foot of the examination table, holding Spock’s hand to his mouth with one hand. He would nibble on the tip of one finger, then slowly suck it into his mouth, deeper and deeper, until he was bobbing up and down along the whole length, tongue swirling, making a mental list of what made Spock gasp and whimper the most. And then, when Spock began to groan in earnest, Jim would stare into those black eyes and slide the finger out with a _pop!_ Then he would lick a strip along to the next one and start all over. Sometimes Jim would get so into it that his eyes would shut, arousal and pleasure coursing through him.

And there _was_ pleasure. _Too much_ pleasure. McCoy frowned. His own cock throbbed as he watched Spock lose himself in pleasure. That was not entirely unexpected, considering how many times he had touched himself, imagining just that look on the Vulcan’s face, but this was more. It felt almost as if he himself were being sucked off, and that couldn’t be right. Spock’s moaning escalated and he cried out suddenly, and his cock throbbed, untouched, and spurted thick cum all over the floor, and McCoy felt it, he could _feel_ Spock’s orgasm; it was not as strong as it seemed to be for the grunting, quivering Vulcan, but it was enough to knock the doctor flat on his back and leave him gasping for air.

“Bones, did you _feel_ that?” Jim panted.

“Yep, Jimmyboy. Did you?”

Jim chuckled. “Mm. I certainly did.”

“This has got to be the strangest thing that has ever happened to—” McCoy was cut off by hungry Vulcan kisses. It felt so different from before, when Spock had been trying so hard to maintain control. This was so far from controlled. It was messy, passionate, fierce, biting, licking, and he could feel Spock’s basest emotions in his own mind, could feel Spock’s needing, his wanting. It was everything McCoy had ever fantasized about. Finally breaking through that shell. Being the one to make Spock lose control.

His fantasies had not included his oldest friend standing next to them and rubbing himself through his pants, but hey, McCoy was nothing if not adaptable.

He felt Spock line himself up, engorged head nudging against his entrance, and he found that he was not tensing up, as he expected to. He trusted the meds to do their job, and, more than anything, he _wanted_. His own desire melded with Spock’s wild lust. Spock pushed inside and claimed him.

X x

Jim could only take so much of this. His mind burned in a blur of passion, and he could feel—God, he could feel everything Spock felt, and he could feel everything Bones felt, and it was like fucking and being fucked at the same time, only he wasn’t fucking or being fucked, he was just standing alone, behind all the action, and that wasn’t a very Jim-like thing to do at all. He made a decision. He quickly stripped and folded up his uniform. He laughed to himself; he was the only one naked; the others had lost their pants in a rather less controlled, and more piecemeal, manner.

He walked up, stroking his aching cock, and planted himself behind Spock. He leaned in to whisper into the Vulcan’s sensitive ear. “I don’t think it would be wise to fuck you right now, Spock. I don’t know if that’s what you want, and even if it is, the way you’re jackhammering away at Bones, I don’t think a lowly human like myself could keep up.” He smiled and nibbled at Spock’s ear. 

Spock gasped and fucked deeper into McCoy, who groaned out a breathy “Yes..” Their pleasure rebounded and Jim gasped, blinded for a moment. “ _Fuck_ , Spock, _fuck_ .” Jim’s voice wasn’t teasing any more. His tone wasn’t calculated, flirtatious, half-joking; it was _hungry_ . “You keep fucking him, and I’m gonna stay pressed against your back like this, and— _ah!_ —I’ll just— _fuck_ —just jerk myself off, right against your ass, how does that sound?” It was a good thing that Spock groaned “ _Yes_ ,” because Jim had already begun doing just that. “ _Fuck,”_ he moaned, “Bones, I can feel what you feel...it’s like he’s— _unh!_ —inside me. And I can feel him fucking you...it’s like I’m inside you…” Jim gasped. “Fuck, Bones, you’re so _tight,_ ” Jim groaned, fisting his cock furiously. 

“Words I never wanted to hear from you,” McCoy gritted out, but Jim could feel the amusement flitting through Bones’s mind even through all the pleasure, and he snorted something between a laugh and a whimper.

X x

Spock was lost in pleasure. There was no thought; there was only sensation. The sensation of tight heat around his cock. The sensation of a warm body pressed against his back. The borrowed sensation of being filled, being pounded, being _taken_ by a mate. And the sensation of _rightness_ , of being fully enveloped and accepted and surrounded by a bondmate, warm and wonderful and alive, and if it was unusual to have one bondmate at his front and one at his back, it did not feel unusual now. It felt _perfect_.

Spock arched his back and screamed. His eyes rolled back, and his hands shot out to his partners’ temples again, but this time, they welcomed it. He poured himself into McCoy, just as the doctor’s cock erupted all over them both, and Jim shoved himself between Spock’s cheeks as he came.

X x

Jim woke up halfway to the floor. His eyes snapped open, and he caught himself before he fell. Spock had collapsed on top of the doctor, deep asleep.

“Bones! Can you breathe under there?”

“Huh?” His voice was groggy, and he adamantly kept his eyes closed. “Fuck you, I was asleep.” Then he remembered where he was. “Shit. How’s Spock?”

“He’s fast asleep, and his readings are heading back to normal. I took some cursory tricorder readings while you were getting your beauty sleep.”

“Since when do you know how to use a tricorder?”

He heard Jim laugh. “I know all kinds of things.”

“Like hell you do. Why don’t you let me sleep in peace and go bother someone on the bridge?”

Jim’s voice was closer now. “Already on my way.” Bones wriggled to get his head free from the Vulcan sprawled over him, and gaped at his fully dressed, fully respectable-looking captain.

“How the hell do you do it?”

Jim laughed and pecked Bones on the lips, followed by a lingering kiss to the sleeping Vulcan’s forehead. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me so happy!


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